


Predatory

by Skiinonskiin



Category: Queens of the Stone Age
Genre: Anal Sex, Burning, Grinding, M/M, Pain Kink, Predator/Prey, S&M, blowjob, m/m - Freeform, qotsa - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 11:40:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17425205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skiinonskiin/pseuds/Skiinonskiin
Summary: Who really holds the power in a predator/prey relationship?





	Predatory

**Author's Note:**

> Advisory: contains light s&m / kink play including cigarette burns.

The way he always watches me is like a predator stalking its prey.

The feel of eyes burning through the back of my skull and the smell of cigarette smoke is the harbinger of his arrival, followed soon after by the sound of a belt buckle loosening before I can even turn around. I’m ready for it this time. I know what he wants, that illusion of control, that feeling of being the big bad wolf. I keep my back to him and slow my breathing, even as my heart jumps in my chest.

It isn’t more than two seconds after the sound of his belt jingling that his hand fists into my hair, hard, and drives me into the wall face first. He holds me there with his entire body weight pressed against me, his already apparent hardness firmly digging into my ass, and rests his head next to mine on the wall. He doesn’t speak, just breathes an unsteady, ragged breath, cigarette dangling from his lip, exhaling smoke into my face, grabbing my chin roughly to turn it towards him. I open my mouth as best I can to suck the smoke in, and he laughs, a low dark rasp of a chuckle. Eyeing me carefully, like a fox hunting a rabbit, he lets go of my chin. He lifts the back of my shirt and exposes skin, running his calloused fingers in circles over the small of my back gently until a wave of goosebumps washes over me with a shiver, before plucking the cigarette from between his lips and putting it out on me.

I cry out then, the first noise I’ve made during our meeting, and arch my back into him, grinding backwards into his cock, harder now than before. He groans in approval and tightens the hand in my hair, yanking my head back hard until it's resting on his shoulder.

“Did you always let people do this to you?” His voice is low and dripping through gritted teeth. He runs his tongue from the base of my neck to my ear and then clamps his teeth down, hard, on the muscle being pulled taught by his grip. Spots swim in my vision and I ball my fists as I let out a hiss. I am fully and painfully hard now. “Did you always let people hurt you when they fuck you?” His other hand has snaked around to my chest to roughly pop the buttons of my shirt open and dig his massive hands into my skin, clawing downward as he begins to grind his hips into me. The cigarette burn stings on the small of my back; it will fade to form a pretty picture with all of the others. Constellations. A different kind of map of the night sky, not of stars, but illicit midnight meetings. "C'mon now, Mikey. Tell me if you did," he murmurs, moaning low in my ear as I push back into him and match the pace of his grind.

"No," I tell him. "Only you."

He growls his approval. His free hand now at my belt is fumbling to undo it, swearing, not wanting to let go of the back of my head with his other hand and relinquish his ownership. I tentatively take one hand off of the wall and attempt to help him, but he barks into my ear, “don’t you fucking move.” Giving up on my belt for the moment, his wandering hand finally palms the bulge in my jeans and roughly drags slowly back and forth. Whatever composure I’ve had up until that point is gone; I gasp and force my hips against his hand, grinding myself into him desperately. His laugh is so deep that I can feel it vibrating through my back.

“Like a fucking dog humping a leg. Like a bitch.” He curves his fingers sharply and digs his nails in, and I see the edges of my vision go black for a moment as I gasp. His breath is hot and right against my ear again. He draws his hand away and places it firmly on my throat.

“Are you mine?” His words come fast and his hand is shaking. I nod as best as I can against his grip. “Will you still be mine if I let go?” He tugs at my scalp one last time. I whine and nod again, a breathless "yes" escaping my lips. Satisfied, he lets go of my hair and my throat and makes quick work of my belt buckle with both hands at his disposal this time. Pushing my jeans and boxers down around my thighs, my erection finally freed, he gives me one rough stroke, murmuring “Good boy.” before sliding down his own jeans. When he leans back in to pin me again, I can feel his cock, hard, heavy, wet against the small of my back and the fresh cigarette burn. His hands now move to hold my arms against the wall, immobilizing them, and he resumes his grind, harder now, drawing uneven gasps between his lips. Laughing to myself, I think, _who's the dog now?_

He's had enough of teasing himself now, and he pulls me roughly from the wall and spins me around to face him. This is the moment I truly relish the most, finally getting to see what I've done to him without lifting a single finger; his soft ginger hair long ago fallen out of place onto his forehead, cheeks and chest flushed red under his disheveled unbuttoned shirt, sweat beaded on his brow and running down his neck, and that look, _that look_ in his eye. He runs his tongue over his lips and pushes me down to my knees in front of him, leaning over me with a hand against the wall. Finally able to touch him, I wrap one hand firmly around the base of his cock and squeeze his thigh with the other, kissing up the line of hearts tattooed there. Reaching his hip and sensing his impatience, I turn my attention to his dick, starting low around my grip at the bottom and running my tongue up the underside vein, wrapping my lips around the head and looking up at him as I slide the rest into my mouth. He has both elbows against the wall now, and as soon as the head of his cock touches my tongue, he groans and shuts his eyes, leaning his forehead forward to rest on his arms above me. I don't have much room to move backwards as he fucks himself in my mouth; he pushes in hard and I gag, the back of my head hitting the wall.   
  
"Ah, shit," he groans, laughing, reaching down with one hand and smoothing my hair back so he can get a clear view of my face. "You take that so well." I hold eye contact and take him as deep in my mouth as I can one more time, and his eyes flutter shut, lips curling into a snarl. "Yeah, fuck, like that." He draws his hips back and leaves my mouth with a messy pop.

"Get up," he says. Stumbling to my feet, he spins me around again, and with a swipe of his arm he's knocked everything off of the dressing room counter and bent me over it face down. I hear him spit into his hand and when I feel a thick, wet finger at my entrance, it's all I can do to focus on the still stinging cigarette burn to distract me. He can feel me tense up, and he hesitates for just a moment, rubbing and kissing my shoulders while slowly working his finger into me. I whine between my teeth and he murmurs against the top of my back "shhh, be good." The slow rhythm he builds has me relaxing and grinding back against his hand soon enough, and when he adds a second finger, I beat my fist on the counter and cry out for him.   
  
"Josh, _please_." He responds by curling his fingers downward wickedly, brushing my prostate.   
  
"Please what?" I can't see him but I know that motherfucker is grinning ear to ear.   
  
"Please fuck me. Please. Jesus-" I hear him mutter something and spit into his palm again, and he pulls his fingers out of me before quickly replacing them with the tip of his cock. His hands on my hips draw me backward onto him slowly and my nails scrape against the counter; you never get used to someone that size, no matter how many times he's been inside of me. I grab around for something, anything to bury my face in, and feel the leather of Josh's jacket hanging on the back of the chair next to the counter. I pull it towards me and bite down on it, muffling my groans and arching my back for more. I can hear him curse behind me, squeezing my hip bones, and he rolls forward into me, holding steady for a moment when he's fully inside, before pulling out slowly and pushing back in harder this time. "Fuck," I hiss, clenching leather between my teeth. He seems to take that as a challenge, grinding into me faster now. One rough hand leaves my hip and finds my cock, stroking in time with his thrusts, and my eyes have rolled so far back into my skull that I swear I can almost see him behind me, head thrown back, biting his lip...  
  
"So close," he pants out between heavy breaths. "Tell me you're mine."   
  
I can feel myself about to cum, too, and I spit the leather out of my mouth, dizzy and breathless. "You know I'm yours." 

He jerks his hips forward a few more times and cums with a groan, drawing a shaking breath. His hand on my cock stills for only a moment while he pulls out, and then he's jacking me off quickly again, bent low over me, running his tongue up along my spine and coaxing me in low urgent tones to my own orgasm. "Yeah, good boy," he coos when I cum into his fist and collapse fully against the counter, spent. I lay with my eyes closed for a few moments and listen to the sounds of Josh putting himself back together- a paper towel ripping from the dressing room bathroom, the water running, buttons snapping, denim rustling. I've managed at least to pull my boxers back up and sit up by the time he comes back into the main room.   
  
Josh pulls his jacket on last, eyeing the wet spot of spit I'd left on it with amusement. "If you left teeth marks on this, you're buying me a new one," he warns, planting a possessive kiss on my lips with a cheeky wink before turning to leave the room. I shift uncomfortably and sit myself down gently in the chair next to the dressing room counter. Half smoked cigarettes and empty cups from before the show still lie on the floor, shoved there in Josh's haste to fuck me. I sigh and lean over, stacking the trash together. _Guess I'll clean up. Again._  
  
I hear Josh's laugh echoing down the hallway and I smirk. He may be the apex predator here, but it's only because I allow him to be.

What's a predator without their prey?  


End file.
